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GORKY 


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ARSHILE 

GORKY 

MEMORIAL 
EXHIBITION 


COVER:  Central  motif  from  drawing  OBJECTS 
Courtesy  of  the  Museum  of  Modern  Art 


THE  BETROTHAL  II.      1947.      Oil.      503A  x  38 
Whitney  Museum  of  American  Art 


ARSHILE 

GORKY 


MEMORIAL 
EXHIBITION 


WHITNEY  MUSEUM  OF  AMERICAN  ART 

NEW  YORK         •         JANUARY  5--FEBRUARY  18,  1951 

WALKER  ART  CENTER 

MINNEAPOLIS  •  MARCH  4- APRIL  22,  1951 

SAN    FRANCISCO    MUSEUM   OF  ART 

SAN  FRANCISCO  •  MAY  9^ JULY  9,  1  951 


ARSHILE  GORKY 
Portrait  by  Gjon  Mili,  1946 


ARSHILE   GORKY 

By  Ethel  Schwabacher 

Akshile  Gorky,  born  in  Armenia  and  coming  to  America  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  liked  to 
think  of  himself  as  part  of  a  Caucasian  heritage  which  retained  elements  of  ancient 
Snmerian  culture.  Lake  Van,  where  he  lived  as  a  child,  had  been  the  center  of  an 
Armenian  civilization  which  held  memories  of  Semiramis  and  the  Babylonian  kings, 
and  had  celebrated  schools  of  calligraphy  and  illuminated  manuscripts.  Doubtless 
Gorkv  had  seen  these  works,  which  were  enriched  with  fantastic  and  delightful  forms 
of  hybrid  animals  and  men  suggestive  of  recent  surrealism.  Raised  in  the  mountains 
of  northern  Armenia  and  the  Caucasus,  of  peasant  ancestry  on  his  fathers  side,  and  a 
long  line  of  priests  on  his  Georgian  mothers,  Gorkv  was  a  man  of  great  physical  vigor 
and  creative  passion. 

Reflecting  these  qualities,  his  works  were  powerful,  vital,  sensuously  rich;  his 
brush  had  the  something  which  is  the  birthright  of  a  born  painter.  He  relied  upon 
instinct;  he  felt  rather  than  reasoned.  In  his  frequent  use  of  metaphor  and  magic 
symbolism,  dreamworld  images  and  animism,  distortion  and  arbitrary  color,  he  was  a 
mythic  or  intuitive  rather  than  a  logical  creator.  Driven  by  an  insatiable  desire  to 
apprehend  form  and  what  he  termed  the  "invisible  relations  and  phenomena  of  this 
modern  time,"  he  had  the  courage  to  stand  on  the  burning  ground  of  the  present. 

His  mind  blazed  with  a  fierv  river  of  ever-varving  images.  His  quest  was  to  embody 
the  soul  of  the  image  in  form.  Into  his  imagery  he  distilled  the  experiences  of  a  poet,  a 
poet-in-paint  whose  range  extended  from  an  intuitive,  lyrical  poetry  of  nature  to  a 
tragic,  daemonic  poetrv  of  human  emotion.  It  might  be  said  of  him  that  he  was  the 
Ingres  of  the  unconscious.  He  recovered  latent  images  from  the  unconscious  world 
and  incorporated  them  in  a  space  which  he  himself  had  created  and  in  relationships 
which  he  had  determined.  This  tapping  of  the  unconscious  involved  chance;  a  certain 
degree  of  automatism  was  used  to  obtain  it;  but  this  chance  invariably  flowered  into 
choice. 

Self-taught,  he  learned  by  doing,  and  by  lifelong,  passionate  absorption  in  the  art 
of  the  past  and  present,  studying  the  works  of  the  museum,  the  works  of  living  masters 
and  the  works  of  nature  with  equal  intensity.  To  him  a  great  painter  was  a  masterpiece 
of  nature  which  every  other  painter  must  study.  He  set  himself  to  learn  the  methods 
of  the  masters,  assuming  that  there  were  technical  means  which  remain  constant.  His 
work  evokes  the  realities  and  nuances  not  only  of  nature,  but  of  the  one  unchanging 
element  in  civilization  —  art.  In  the  realm  of  art  he  wandered  freely  and  loved  much: 
"I  like  Uccello,  Grunewald,  Ingres,  the  drawings  and  sketches  for  paintings  of  Seurat, 
and  that  man  Pablo  Picasso."  He  loved  to  isolate  part  of  a  picture  and  study  it  for 
itself,  applying  the  principle  of  pars  pro  toto,  bv  which  every  part  of  the  whole  is  the 


whole  itself  and  contains  its  significance.  Freed  from  the  weight  of  emotion  aroused 
by  the  total  effect  of  a  work,  he  drew  from  its  parts  for  his  creative  purposes,  as  freely 
as  from  the  parts  of  nature.  His  own  richly  sensuous  nature  transformed  all  that  he 
took  from  art  into  something  which  had  the  integrity  of  the  personal  plastic  creation. 
Saturated  with  reminiscences,  he  transmits  them  to  us  in  his  own  terms,  and  we  are 
warmed  unforgettably  by  his  store  of  energy  and  heat.  His  aim  at  first  was  not  so  much 
to  make  something  totally  new  as  to  eliminate  the  obsolete  solutions  of  his  predecessors; 
by  combining  two  or  more  known  elements,  to  produce  not  new  elements  but  new 
compounds. 

He  experimented  endlessly,  using  the  wide  range  of  ideologies  and  techniques 
offered  by  his  understanding  of  other  art.  He  tended  to  push  experiments  to  extremes: 
from  the  extreme  of  abundance,  shown  in  rich  substance,  paint  built  up  in  layer  upon 
layer  until  it  resembled  polychromed  bas-relief,  to  the  extreme  of  poverty,  shown  in 
thin  painting,  where  the  canvas  was  left  bare  in  large  areas,  suggesting  the  ascetic 
virtue  of  vacancy.  He  explored  the  extremes  of  blackness  and  whiteness,  of  barbaric 
color  and  grisaille,  of  largeness  and  the  precise  minutiae  of  particulars,  of  the  tragic 
and  the  lyric. 

Creating  variations  on  a  theme,  he  frequently  did  a  succession  of  paintings  of  the 
same  subject.  The  mood  and  treatment  changed  radically  in  each  version  in  accordance 
with  the  period  in  which  it  was  worked;  but  the  themes,  which  sprang  from  the  deep 
of  his  own  personality  and  rewrote  the  experience  of  his  childhood,  remained  the 
same.  They  were  autobiographical,  picturing  a  personal  saga,  an  extended  intimate 
portrait  of  the  artist.  But  though  his  themes  were  autobiographical,  his  art,  paradoxi- 
cally, was  impersonal. 

As  he  matured,  the  elements  derived  from  other  art  were  lost  in  growing  inde- 
pendence. His  late  works  achieved  the  freedom  of  great  knowledge.  They  were 
entirely  personal,  prodigal  in  original  ideas,  and  filled  with  a  super!)  creative  vitality. 
The  wealth  of  invention  shown  in  subtle  metamorphoses  of  forms  and  images  is  fan- 
tastic. These  works  revealed  him  in  full  possession  of  his  means,  a  lover  of  clarity  and 
elegance,  the  greatest  alia  prima  painter  this  country  has  produced.  His  art  achieved 
a  synthesis  of  old  world  and  new  world.  His  contribution  was  to  add  new  depths  of 
emotion  to  the  twentieth-century  vision,  to  enlarge  it  with  a  mysticism  more  charac- 
teristic of  the  East  than  the  West,  and  to  bring  it  through  exquisite  craftsmanship  to  a 
highly  individual  perfection.  In  the  end,  having  drawn  on  past  and  present,  he  created 
m\  ths  which  would  live  in  the  future. 

II 

Gorky's  earliest  paintings  of  the  years  1920  to  1925  were  dominated  by  Cezanne. 
I!e  had  probably  seen  only  photographs  and  reproductions,  not  the  paintings  them- 


II 

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THE  ANTIQUE  CAST.      1926.      Oil.      36Va  x  46.      Collection  Mrs.  David  Metzger. 

selves;  unaware  of  the  function  of  color  in  Cezanne's  art,  he  worked  in  terms  of 
drawing  and  values  alone;  these  first  studies  were  blunt,  forceful  and  monochrome. 
But  by  1925,  when  he  was  twentv-one,  paintings  such  as  Still  Life  with  Skull  (No.  2) 
displaved  a  more  varied  palette. 

A  transitional  pre-cubist  stage  followed  in  which  he  moved  away  from  Cezanne. 
His  stvle  remained  representational,  the  plastic  qualities  three-dimensional.  But 
though  the  planes  were  modified  by  tonal  nuances  typical  of  Cezanne,  Gorky  had 
given  up  that  master's  fractional  approach  in  favor  of  the  broad  unit  approach  of 
Braque  and  Picasso.  The  Antique  Cast  (No.  3),  with  a  torso  from  the  Parthenon  pedi- 
ment, is  pervaded  by  tragic  suggestions,  particularly  in  such  passages  as  the  strange 
blood-red  area  of  the  diaphragm,  reminiscent  of  Armenian  paintings  of  Christ  nailed 
to  the  cross,  where  blood  flows  from  a  reddened  spear-wound. 

Even  in  these  early  vears  he  injected  an  autobiographical  note  into  certain  works. 


11 


This  personal  saga  had  begun  with  portraits  of  his  sisters  Ahko  and  Vartoosh,  and  of 
himself  in  his  early  twenties.  Stemming  from  early  heads  by  Pieasso  and  Matisse,  these 
portraits  are  infused  with  a  tender,  typically  Caucasian  melancholy.  As  early  as  1926 
he  began  a  large  portrait  of  his  mother  with  himself  as  a  boy,  using  an  old  photograph 
as  a  model  (No.  4).  The  two  versions  of  this  painting,  on  which  he  continued  to  work 
over  a  period  of  ten  years,  represent  his  first  serious  effort  to  broaden  his  references. 
Instead  of  identifying  himself  with  a  single  master,  he  united  allusions  to  both  the 
past  of  Ingres  and  the  present  of  Picasso.  In  the  Ingres  portrait  of  Mme.  Leblanc  in  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  he  had  admired  the  modelling  of  the  unusually  large  and  deep- 
set  eyes,  and  of  the  head  poised  above  an  incredibly  lengthened  neck,  and  had  com- 
mented that  Ingres  used  more  distortion  than  Picasso;  he  had  also  noted  the  pale 
ghostlike  flesh  tones  which  had  so  dismayed  Ingres'  contemporaries,  but  which  Gorky 
found  beautifully  abstract.  It  is  not  difficult  to  find  allusions  to  these  qualities  in  The 
Artist  and  His  Mother,  nor  to  the  unified  flat  surface  of  Pompeian  frescoes.  The 
haunting  sadness  of  woman  waiting  is  embodied  in  the  monumental  quiet  of  the  pose; 
the  mother's  hands  rest  impassively  in  her  lap,  the  one  suggesting  somehow  a  wounded 
bird,  and  increasing  the  sense  of  helpless,  patient  enduring  against  fate.  The  boy 
stands  modestly  by  her  side  holding  a  simple  bouquet;  his  eyes  are  wide  open  but 
seem  to  gaze  inward,  in  brooding  silence.  This  painting  marks  the  culmination  of 
Gorky's  early  period. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  he  developed  certain  characteristic  technical  procedures. 
He  began  to  build  up  the  paint  in  thin  layers,  a  method  he  was  to  continue  with  inter- 
ludes all  his  life.  Advancing  from  a  drawing  which  he  squared  off  and  transferred  on  to 
the  canvas  in  the  academic  maimer,  he  varied  the  tones  in  each  successive  layer  while 
maintaining  the  general  over-all  balance  of  color.  Traces  of  the  underlying  layers,  which 
show  as  a  result  of  slight  recessions  in  the  outlines,  reveal  these  changes  from  green  to 
vellow  to  red  to  blue,  for  example.  The  result  of  this  clearcut  change  in  the  tones  of  each 
reworking  is  that  the  final  effect  is  never  tired,  and  the  colors  are  as  vital  as  though  they 
had  been  done  du  premier  coup.  He  thought  nothing  of  scraping  off  the  paint  from  a 
canvas  while  still  wet.  "You  know,"  he  wrote,  "how  fussy  and  particular  I  am  in  painting. 
I  am  ever  removing  the  paint  and  repainting  the  spot  until  I  am  completelv  exhausted." 
He  piled  this  paint  in  great  mounds,  sometimes  on  a  series  of  palettes,  sometimes  in  tin 
dishes;  and  he  did  the  same  with  paint  squeezed  fresh  from  tubes.  He  would  let  a  skin 
form  on  these  mounds  of  paint,  and  loved  to  pierce  them,  using  the  heavy  viscous  paint 
inside,  thinned  out  with  a  medium  which  included  oil  and  dammar  varnish.  This  aged 
paint  seemed  never  to  sink  in  too  far  but  blended  marvelouslv  with  the  surface  beneath, 
spreading  out  heavily  like  honey. 

In  1927,  at  the  age  of  twentv-three,  Gorkv  entered  on  a  long  period  of  cubist  experi- 
mentation. "Has  there  in  six  centuries  been  better  art  than  cubism?"  lie  rhapsodized 
about  this  time.  "No.  Centuries  will  go  past  —  artists  of  gigantic  stature  will  chaw  posi- 

12 


THE  ARTIST  AND  HIS  MOTHER.      1926-29.      Oil.      60  x  50.      Whitney  Museum  of  American  Art. 


13 


tive  elements  from  cubism."  As  he  understood  it,  cubism  was  concerned  with  "the 
supernatural  world  behind  reality  where  once  the  great  centuries  danced."  At  this 
point  a  potential  colorist,  he  turned  decisively  in  the  direction  of  form  and  structure, 
disciplining  his  emotions  in  the  rigors  of  cubist  ideology.  From  then  on,  to  use  his 
own  words  about  Stuart  Davis,  he  "realizes  his  canvas  as  a  rectangular  shape  with  two- 
dimensional  surface  plane.  Therefore  he  forbids  himself  to  poke  humps  and  holes  upon 
that  potential  surface."  In  a  series  of  still  lifes  painted  about  1927  to  1932  (Nos.  5-9)  the 
forms  of  fruit,  musical  instruments,  palettes  and  plaster  heads  become  flattened-out 
shapes  which  lie  parallel  to  the  surface  in  traditional  cubist  style.  The  object  is  dis- 
sected into  its  component  parts  and  rearranged  according  to  the  dictates  of  the  plastic 
conception.  Calligraphic  indications  are  substituted  for  object-resemblance,  so  that 
some  acknowledgment  is  made  of  the  spectators  desire  for  orientation  in  the  real 
world.  The  color  ranges  from  dark  warm  earthy  tones  in  the  earlier  pictures  to  ex- 


STILL  LIFE.      1929.      Oil.      47  x  60.      Estate  of  Arshile  Gorky. 


14 


ABSTRACTION  WITH  PALETTE. 
Philadelphia  Museum  of  Art. 


c.  1930.      Oil.      47 Vi  x  35V2. 


tremelv  strong,  almost  lurid  colors  in  the  later  ones.  The  boundaries  of  the  large,  power- 
ful shapes  are  razor-fine.  The  shapes  are  not  mechanically  built  up  to  an  outline 
(Gorkv  hated  the  very  mention  of  drawing  with  a  ruler)  but  in  such  a  way  that  the 
swift  movement  of  the  brush  cuts  the  adjacent  area,  giving  birth  to  and  defining  its 
shape.  This  technique  follows  the  practice  of  Juan  Gris,  and  also  suggests  the  papier 
decoupe  of  the  collagists. 

The  derivative  forms  of  his  early  cubist  works  become  more  personal  in  the  later; 
textures  and  colors  yield  to  structure;  shapes  become  more  dynamic  and  closely-knit 


15 


into  a  unified  organization  of  space;  areas  between  shapes  take  on  a  life  and  character 
of  their  own.  In  short,  his  thought  progresses  from  mere  application  of  the  patterns  of 
real  objects  to  concrete  representation  of  the  potential  object.  The  potential  object 
is  born  from  the  real  object  and  it  in  turn  becomes  real. 

The  depression  which  began  in  1929  so  impoverished  Gorky  that,  unable  to  bu) 
paints  and  canvas,  about  1932  he  was  forced  for  a  long  time  to  work  chiefly  on  a  series 
of  drawings.  Most  of  these  drawings,  done  in  pen  and  ink,  or  occasionally  in  pencil,  were 
studies  related  to  a  projected  panel  which  he  later  executed  in  oils  and  which  is  now 
lost.  (See  drawing,  No.  64.)  This  panel  was  a  horizontal  series  of  independent  com- 
positions divided  by  vertical  elements,  including  a  column  directly  in  the  center  —  a 
conception  inspired  by  Paolo  Uccello's  connected  compositions,  The  Miracle  of  the 
Host.  Analysis  of  Uccello  and  Piero  della  Francesca  had  convinced  Gorkv  that  the 
use  of  such  independent  but  related  compositions  was  a  powerful  schema.  But  the 


DRAWING,      c.  1932.      Ink.      215/a  x  27Va.      Estate  of  Arshile  Gorky. 


L6 


DRAWING,      c.  1932.      Pencil.      785/8  x  24Vi.      Estate  of  Arshile  Gorky. 


object-entities  he  placed  in  these  areas  were  completely  modern,  personalized  plastic 
creations  giving,  as  he  pnt  it,  "new  shape  to  his  experiences.' 

Though  Gorkv  was  not  vet  affiliated  with  the  surrealist  movement  these  drawings 
show  many  signs  of  incipient  surrealism.  The  suggestion  of  the  marvelous  or  magical, 
of  dreamworld  images  and  moods,  and  his  use  of  dislocation,  were  definitely  surrealist. 
Thus  while  their  general  structure  was  based  on  analysis  of  Uccello,  Ingres,  and  finally 
de  Chirico  and  Picasso,  thev  presented,  in  Gorky's  own  words,  "symbols  of  tangible 
spaces,"  and  living  elements  realizing  "the  new  visions  of  our  time."  Whether  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously  conceived,  the  imagery  of  the  arrow,  the  staircase,  the 
palette,  the  column,  the  sphere,  the  antique  head  abstracted  into  a  phallic  shape,  the 
breastlike  pyramids,  the  bird-form,  the  seed,  cover  a  wide  range  of  erotic  symboliza- 
tion.  First  set  forth  here  are  the  themes  of  fertilization  and  of  the  labyrinth  which 
continue  to  obsess  him  throughout  his  life.  In  these  drawings  he  has  created  forms 
stripped  completely  of  the  seduction  of  outward  appearance.  Used  as  plastic  ideo- 


17 


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IS 


grams,  they  create  a  mysterious,  analogical  world,  drenched  in  moonlit  blackness. 
Now  delivered  up,  after  long  impregnation,  he  achieves  at  last  exact  images  of  hal- 
lucinatorv  visions,  whose  beginnings  may  have  gone  back  to  his  childhood. 

A  portion  of  the  right-hand  composition,  developed  independently,  exists  in  some 
thirty  variations.  (Nos.  59,  60,  65.)  To  build  up  form  he  uses  a  variety  of  pen  strokes, 
piling  layer  upon  layer,  freely,  in  the  rhythm  of  the  natural  armswing;  at  other  times 
there  are  firm  cross-hatchings  in  which  the  line  varies  in  weight.  These  varieties  of 
texture  give  a  wide  range  of  color  and  vibration.  At  times  he  washed  off  or  erased 
surfaces  before  building  them  up  again.  This  resulted  in  an  aging  of  the  paper  itself; 
it  took  on  the  appearance  of  an  old-master  drawing.  The  superimposed  material,  ink 
in  this  case,  became  amalgamated  with  the  original  material,  the  paper,  to  form  a  dif- 
ferent substance.  Scorning  newness,  he  achieved  a  surface  that  suggests  the  erosion 
of  mountains,  the  slow  filtering  down  of  layers  of  soil  on  the  earth.  In  this  patient  way 
nature  creates  a  new  topographv.  Gorky  imitated  nature's  processes,  subordinating 
the  will  to  make  to  the  deeper  will  to  arrive  at  a  creation. 

Ill 

Although  a  few  paintings  of  the  early  1930's  anticipated  his  later  surrealist  ten- 
dencies, instead  of  going  further  in  this  direction  Gorky  in  the  years  1933  to  1936 
entered  a  new  period  of  formal  discipline.  He  painted  several  large  canvases,  almost 
purelv  abstract,  predominantly  geometrical  in  form,  and  frequently  based  on  a  white 
background.  Closely  related  to  Picasso's  white  paintings  of  1927  and  1928,  they  grow 
out  of  studio  interiors  with  large  wall  spaces  containing  still-life  objects,  flattened  out 
in  the  typical  cubist  manner.  In  these  paintings  he  piled  layer  upon  layer  of  heavy 
paint  until  he  sometimes  built  the  surface  an  inch  above  the  canvas.  He  had  always 
admired  the  raised  surfaces  of  Cezanne,  obtained  in  patient  search  for  the  exact  full- 
ness of  form;  but  while  Cezanne's  surfaces  resemble  fine  porcelain,  Gorky's  suggest 
the  low  reliefs  on  the  spacious  walls  of  Armenian  buildings.  The  shapes  and  spaces  in 
Organization  (No.  11)  are  so  rigorous  and  clean  as  to  suggest  the  purism  of  Mondrian 
and  the  geometric  constructivism  of  Malevich.  But  Gorkv  evidently  learned  from  this 
experience  that  geometric  purism  had  little  to  offer  him,  and  abandoned  any  further 
attempts  in  this  direction. 

Renewed  by  this  immersion  in  the  work  of  Picasso,  Gorky  was  now  ready  for  more 
independent  creation.  About  1936  he  embarked  on  a  new  phase  in  which  the  geometric 
forms  of  the  preceding  years  were  transformed  into  freer  organic  forms,  stronglv 
rhythmical,  and  in  which  there  was  a  growing  element  of  fantasv  and  symbolism. 
Among  the  most  powerful  of  these  works  were  his  four  versions  of  the  Xhorkom  theme. 
The  essential  idea  of  this  series  had  been  developed  in  a  drawing  of  about  1932 
(No.  66).  Gorky  now  gave  it  full  substance,  emphasizing  different  plastic  and  poetic 

19 


aspects  in  each  version.  In  the  Image  in  Xhorkom  (No.  16)  one  observes  something 
incommensurable,  a  certain  deceptive  distinctness,  and  at  the  same  time  a  mysterious 
depth.  The  heavy  gray  of  the  background  yields  up  forms  which  are  a  transformation 
of  reality.  Even  the  clearest  figure  has  a  comet's  tail  attached  to  it,  suggesting  the 
uncertain,  the  nebulous;  a  similar  twilight  shrouds  the  structure. 

Though  the  emotional  impact  of  Image  in  Xhorkom  is  extremely  forceful,  the 
largest  of  the  four  versions  (No.  20)  is  a  more  advanced  plastic  expression;  the  planes 
are  established  with  greater  clarity  and  the  images  have  crystallized.  The  background 
plane  moves  forward  and  the  frontal  plane  moves  into  the  depth,  so  that  the  inter- 
locking of  shapes  and  spaces  occurs  no  longer  as  in  a  bas-relief,  but  in  an  extended 
surface,  elaborated  contrapuntallv.  In  the  smaller  painting  the  shape  of  the  woman 
evokes  an  idol;  in  the  larger,  this  shape,  metamorphosed  into  an  albatross,  takes  on 
the  aspect  of  a  magical  emblem. 

Though  Gorky  continued  to  advance  in  the  direction  of  surrealism,  works  such  as 

IMAGE  IN  XHORKOM.      c.  7936.      O/V.      327/s  x  43.      Collection  Miss  Jeanne  Reynal. 


20 


PAINTING.      7936-37.      0/7.      38  x  43.      Whitney  Museum  of  American  Art. 


the  Whitney  Museum's  Painting  (No.  18)  were  still  close  to  Picasso.  The  bird-image, 
developed  in  the  ink  drawings  of  about  1932,  emerges  here  in  paint,  singular,  savage 
and  somehow  suggestive  of  a  harshly  primitive  stolidity.  The  curious  staring  bird-eye, 
which  holds  one  immobilized  in  silent  expectancy,  has  the  mesmerizing  power  of 
animal  innocence,  like  the  unbending  eye  of  a  child.  This  round-eve  shape  reappears 
no  less  hauntinglv  as  the  "eye"  of  the  palette,  as  the  "knot"  of  the  tassel,  as  the  "eye" 
of  the  leaf,  strangely  transformed  into  a  bird-head.  In  its  formal  function,  considered 
as  a  circular  spike  around  which  the  forms  pivot  stiffly,  like  mechanical  dolls,  it  also 
serves  as  a  point  of  emphasis,  a  punctuation  point  which  marks  the  phrasing. 

De  Chirico  had  first  made  Gorky  aware  of  the  metaphysical  beauties  of  the  dream- 
world, in  which  as  Nietzsche  said,  "every  man  is  a  perfect  artist";  Mho  had  stimulated 
his  desire  to  experiment  in  the  direction  of  free  fantasy  and  new  concepts  of  space. 
By  the  end  of  the  1930's  he  had  assimilated  those  elements  of  cubism  which  interested 
him,  and  had  virtually  exhausted  what  he  could  get  from  Picasso;  and  he  was  now 


21 


GARDEN  IN  SOCHI.      1941.      Oil.      44Va  x  62Va.       Museum  of  Modern  Art. 


occupied  with  analysis  of  various  surrealist  contributions,  the  double-image,  auto- 
matism and  dream-imagery.  However,  he  was  really  in  a  different  camp.  While  the 
surrealists  profess  no  conscious  control  of  their  unconscious  material,  Gorkv  was  always 
in  full  control,  aware  of  what  he  was  doing  and  its  meaning.  He  used  the  material  of 
the  unconscious  with  deliberate,  conscious  design.  At  this  time  his  position  was  similar 
to  that  of  Masson  who  said,  "I  am  too  surrealist  for  those  who  do  not  like  surrealism, 
and  not  surrealist  enough  for  those  who  do." 

The  several  versions  of  the  Garden  in  Soclii  motif,  painted  about  1940,  (Nos.  25-27) 
are  brilliant  variations  on  a  theme  whose  source  was  the  memory  of  a  garden  familiar 
to  his  childhood.  The  role  that  such  memories  played  in  his  work  is  shown  bv  his  own 
words  as  taken  down  by  Agnes  Gorky:  "About  a  hundred  and  ninety-four  feet  away 
from  our  house  on  the  road  to  the  spring,  my  father  had  a  little  garden  with  a  few  apple 
trees  which  had  retired  from  giving  fruit.  There  was  a  ground  constantly  in  shade 
where  grew  incalculable  amounts  of  wild  carrots,  and  porcupines  had  made  their 
nests.  There  was  a  blue  rock  half  buried  in  the  black  earth  with  a  few  patches  of  moss 


22 


placed  here  and  there  like  fallen  clouds.  But  from  where  came  all  the  shadows  in 
constant  battle  like  the  lancers  of  Paolo  Uccello's  painting?  This  garden  was  identified 
as  the  Garden  of  Wish  Fulfillment  and  often  I  had  seen  my  mother  and  other  village 
women  opening  their  bosoms  and  taking  their  soft  breasts  in  their  hands  to  rub  them 
on  the  rock.  Above  all  this  stood  an  enormous  tree  all  bleached  under  the  sun,  the 
rain,  the  cold,  and  deprived  of  leaves.  This  was  the  Holy  Tree.  I  myself  don't  know  why 
this  tree  was  holy  but  I  had  witnessed  many  people,  whoever  did  pass  by,  that  would 
tear  voluntarily  a  strip  of  their  clothes  and  attach  this  to  the  tree.  Thus  through  many 
years  of  the  same  act,  like  a  veritable  parade  of  banners  under  the  pressure  of  wind  all 
these  personal  inscriptions  of  signatures,  very  softly  to  my  innocent  ear  used  to  give 
echo  to  the  sh-h-h-sh-h  of  silver  leaves  of  the  poplars." 

The  earlier  versions  of  this  theme  used  Mho  as  a  catalytic  agent,  but  in  subsequent 
ones  he  gradually  precipitated  out  more  of  his  own  thought.  Similarly  he  eliminated 
traces  of  nature.  In  these  paintings  an  old-fashioned  butter-churn,  remembered  from 
his  childhood,  was  the  source  of  the  Persian-slipper  image.  A  dual  role  had  been 

ENIGMATIC  COMBAT,      c.  1936.      Oil.      35Va  x  48.      San  Francisco  Museum  of  Art. 


23 


assigned  to  nature:  it  embraced  the  outside  world  seen  by  our  eyes  and  the  inside 
world  of  the  psyche.  Nature  in  this  sense  was  to  be  transformed,  abstracted,  and 
finally  embodied  in  the  disguised  but  nonetheless  evocative  form  of  symbols  and 
images. 

IV 

By  1935  Gorky's  poverty  forced  him  to  the  conclusion  that  his  onlv  chance  to 
survive  was  to  join  the  WPA.  His  first  project  was  to  make  designs  for  murals  intended 
originally  for  Floyd  Bennett  Field,  and  later  actually  executed  for  the  Newark  Airport. 
These  murals,  entitled  "Aviation:  Evolution  of  Forms  under  Aerodvnamic  Limita- 
tions,"  were  to  consist  of  ten  large  panels  covering  1530  square  feet.  Gorky's  descrip- 
tion of  the  murals,  which  he  wrote  for  the  WPA  and  which  amounts  to  an  aesthetic 
manifesto  (it  is  the  only  written  record  we  have  of  his  ideas  on  art)  says  in  part: 

"The  architectonic  two-dimensional  surface  plane  of  walls  must  be  retained  in 
mural  painting.  How  was  I  to  overcome  this  plastic  problem  when  the  subject  of  my 
murals  was  that  of  the  unbounded  space  of  the  sky-world  of  aviation?  .  .  .  The  problem 
resolved  itself  when  I  considered  the  new  vision  that  flight  has  given  to  the  eyes  of 
man.  The  isle  of  Manhattan  with  all  its  skyscrapers  from  the  view  of  an  aeroplane  five 
miles  up  becomes  but  a  geographical  map,  a  two-dimensional  surface  plane.  This  new 
perception  simplifies  the  forms  and  shapes  of  earth  objects.  The  thickness  of  objects  is 
lost  and  only  the  space  occupied  by  the  objects  remains.  Such  simplification  removes 
all  decorative  details  and  leaves  the  artist  with  limitations  which  become  a  style,  a 
plastic  invention,  particular  to  our  time.  How  was  I  to  utilize  this  new  concept  for 
my  murals? 

"In  the  popular  idea  of  art,  an  aeroplane  is  painted  as  it  might  look  in  a  photo- 
graph. But  such  a  hackneyed  concept  has  no  architectural  unity  in  the  space  that  it  is 
to  occupy  nor  does  it  truthfully  represent  an  aeroplane  with  all  its  ramifications.  An 
operation  was  imperative,  and  that  is  why  in  the  first  panel  of  'Activities  on  the  Field' 
I  had  to  dissect  an  aeroplane  into  its  constituent  parts.  An  aeroplane  is  composed  of 
a  variety  of  shapes  and  forms  and  I  have  used  such  elemental  forms  as  a  rudder,  a 
wing,  a  wheel,  a  searchlight,  etc.,  to  create  not  only  numerical  interest,  but  also  to 
include  within  a  given  wall  space,  plastic  symbols  of  aviation.  These  plastic  symbols 
are  the  permanent  elements  of  aeroplanes  that  will  not  change  with  the  change  of 
design.  These  symbols,  these  forms,  I  have  used  in  paralyzing  disproportions  in  order 
to  impress  upon  the  spectator  the  miraculous  new  vision  of  our  time.  To  add  to  the 
intensity  of  these  shapes,  I  have  used  such  local  colors  as  are  to  be  seen  on  the  aviation 
field,  red,  blue,  yellow,  black,  gray,  brown,  because  these  colors  were  used  originally 
to  sharpen  the  objects  against  neutral  backgrounds  so  that  they  could  be  seen  clearly 
and  quickly.  .  .  . 

24 


PORTRAIT,      c.  1938.      Oil.      303A  x  24Va.      Estate  of  Arshile  Gorky. 


"Each  of  the  walls  presents  a  different  problem  concerning  aviation  and  to  solve 
each  one,  I  had  to  use  different  concepts,  different  plastic  qualities,  different  colors. 
Thus,  to  appreciate  mv  panel  of  the  first  balloon,  the  spectator  must  seek  to  imagina- 
tively enter  into  the  miraculous  sense  of  wonder  experienced  by  the  first  balloonists.  In 
the  shock  of  surprise  everything  changes.  The  skv  becomes  green.  The  sun  is  black 
with  astonishment  on  beholding  an  invention  never  before  created  by  the  hand  of 
God. . . . 

"In  the  last  three  panels  I  have  used  arbitrary  colors  and  shapes;  the  wing  is  black, 


25 


GORKY  PAINTING  THE  NEWARK  AIRPORT  MURALS. 

the  rudder  yellow,  so  as  to  convey  the  sense  that  these  modern  gigantic  toys  of  man 
are  decorated  with  the  same  fanciful  play  as  children  have  in  coloring  their  kites.  In 
the  same  spirit  the  engine  becomes  in  one  place  like  the  wings  of  a  dragon  and  in 
another  the  wheels,  propellor  and  motor  take  on  the  demonic  speed  of  a  meteor 
cleaving  the  atmosphere." 

In  one  panel,  Gorkv  says,  he  has  used  objects  having  "a  definitely  important  usage 
in  aviation,  and  to  emphasize  this,  I  have  given  them  importance  by  detaching  them 
from  their  environment."  One  mav  clearlv  see  in  the  isolation  of  the  win<j;  removed 
from  the  body  of  a  plane,  for  example,  that  Gorkv  was  using  the  dislocation  or  putting 
out  of  place  which  was  one  of  the  cardinal  theories  of  surrealism.  At  the  same  time, 
his  semi-abstract  use  of  machine  forms  and  his  powerful  decorative  sense  show 
affinities  to  Leger. 

In  one  series  of  large  studies,  not  actually  carried  out,  Gorky  employed  in  the  form 
of  collage,  photographs  which  Wvatt  Davis  had  made  of  the  elemental  parts  of  the 


26 


plane.  Max  Ernst  had  been  the  first  to  use  photographs  in  place  of  the  pasted  paper 
employed  by  the  early  cubists,  but  Ernst  had  used  them  only  on  a  small  scale.  The 
use  of  photomontage  in  combination  with  mural  painting  was,  so  far  as  this  writer 
knows,  without  precedent. 

Gorky's  model  of  the  murals  and  one  completed  panel,  exhibited  at  the  Museum 
of  Modern  Art  in  1936,  caused  unfavorable  and  facetious  comments  in  the  New 
Jersey  newspapers.  Alfred  H.  Barr,  director  of  the  museum,  made  a  statement  in  their 
defense:  "An  airport  should  be  one  of  the  most  modern  architectural  projects.  Any 
conservative  or  banal  or  reactionary  decorations  would  be  extremely  inappropriate. 
It  is  dangerous  to  ride  in  an  old-fashioned  aeroplane.  It  is  inappropriate  to  wait  and 
buy  one's  ticket  surrounded  by  old-fashioned  murals.  ...  I  hope  that  Newark  will  take 
the  lead  in  approving  modern  murals  for  a  modern  airport."  Newark  finally  did,  and 
the  murals  were  installed. 

Gorky  did  several  more  murals,  including  two  very  large  compositions  for  the 
Aviation  Building  at  the  World's  Fair  in  1939,  and  a  final  set  in  1941  for  Ben  Maiden's 
Riviera  night  club  on  the  New  Jersey  Palisades  overlooking  the  Hudson.  (No.  57) 
All  these  murals  show  the  same  elements  of  architectonic  unity,  symbolic  use  of 
essential  forms,  and  intellectual  fantasy  bordering  at  times  on  humor.  Certain  shapes 
and  the  light  irony  of  some  of  the  pictorial  metaphors  recall  Miro.  Of  the  Ben  Maiden 
murals  Gorky  said:  "I  call  these  murals  non-objective  art,  but  if  labels  are  needed  this 
art  may  be  termed  surrealistic.  .  .  .  The  theme  —  visions  of  the  sky  and  river.  ...  Of 
course  the  outward  aspect  of  my  murals  seemingly  does  not  relate  to  the  average  man's 
experience.  But  this  is  an  illusion!  .  .  .  Certainly  we  all  dream,  and  in  this  common 
denominator  of  everyone's  experience  I  have  been  able  to  find  a  language  for  all  to 
understand." 

A  disastrous  fate  has  overtaken  all  Gorky's  murals.  Those  at  the  Newark  Airport, 
which  were  painted  on  canvas,  have  disappeared,  and  all  efforts  to  find  them  have 
failed  so  far.  The  World's  Fair  murals  have  disappeared  like  most  of  the  art  made  for 
the  Fair.  The  Ben  Marden  murals  have  been  extensively  repainted.  Aside  from  the 
latter,  all  that  remains  of  Gorky's  mural  work  is  a  few  sketches  and  photographs. 


About  1942  began  a  new  development  in  Gorky's  art,  leading  step  by  step  to  the 
mature  originality  of  his  last  paintings.  In  the  prolific  output  of  the  next  few  years 
there  was  a  new  and  heightened  phase  of  lyric  poetry,  using  landscape  as  a  point  of 
departure.  Gorky  was  primarily  a  poet  and  to  him  surrealism  was  chiefly  valuable  as  a 
method  for  releasing  poetical  inspiration.  Fascinated  equally  by  the  "ineluctable 
modality  of  the  visible,"  in  James  Joyce's  words,  and  the  invisible  dark  world  of  the 
unconscious,  he  adopted  an  extremely  rapid,  semi-automatic  procedure,  hoping  in  this 

27 


STUDY  FOR   "THE  LIVER   IS    THE  COCK'S   COMB/ 
24Vi.      Collection  Mr.  Julien  Levy. 


1943.      Pencil   and   colored   crayon.      78 Vs   x 


way  to  catch  thought  at  its  quick,  unhampered  by  slow-moving  logic.  He  left  out  links 
in  the  chain  of  thought,  demanding  of  the  spectator  a  willingness  to  make  a  new  effort 
of  attention.  Keys  to  an  understanding  of  his  later  paintings  may  be  found  if  we  remem- 
ber that  he  worked  on  several  levels  at  once,  responding  to  the  stimuli  of  the  immediate 
outside  world  of  nature,  to  anterior  impressions  of  the  Caucasus,  to  memories  of  past 
and  present  art,  and  to  the  deep  suggestions  of  the  dreamworld  or  collective  uncon- 
scious. His  art  is  evocative  on  four  levels:  the  senses,  the  psyche,  the  historic  past,  and 
the  universal  level  of  epic  symbolism. 

In  1941  Gorky  married  Agnes  Magruder,  and  the  following  summer  they  spent 
three  weeks  in  Connecticut.  Gorky  had  always  felt  a  cold  sense  of  isolation  in  the  city, 
where  he  had  been  the  exile,  alone  among  strangers.  Nostalgically  he  had  painted  what 
he  loved  most  —  the  scenes  of  his  earliest  response  to  the  beauty  of  the  world.  "I  like 
the  heat,"  he  would  enumerate,  "the  tenderness,  the  edible,  the  lusciousness,  the  song 
of  a  single  person.  I  like  the  wheatfields,  the  plough,  the  apricots,  the  shape  of  apricots, 

28 


those  flirts  of  the  sun."  Now  he  worked  outdoors.  This  experience  was  in  the  nature  of 
a  joyous  shock  of  awakening.  He  reacted  once  more,  as  in  his  childhood,  directly  to 
nature;  seen  with  the  marvelous  clarity  of  the  invalid  returned  to  health,  the  world 
was  new,  magical.  The  two  paintings  called  Pirates  (No.  28),  the  first  expressions  of 
this  rebirth,  were  tender,  tentative,  trembling  on  the  edge  of  new  discoveries.  The 
canvas  was  covered  with  delicate,  subtly-varied  tones  of  green;  the  forms,  somewhat 
in  the  stvle  of  lyrical  cubism,  were  derived  from  flower  and  tree.  Gorky's  imagination 
drew  metaphors  from  the  shifting  shapes  of  leaf-formations  spreading  out  or  con- 
tracting in  the  breeze,  much  as  Leonardo  da  Vinci  had  drawn  battle  scenes  from 
spatterings  of  mud  on  an  old  wall.  The  tache  or  square  patch  used  by  Cezanne  is 
employed  here  with  greater  breadth,  and  in  the  open  space  of  Mho  rather  than  in  the 
closed  space  of  Cezanne  and  Picasso. 

As  Max  Ernst  has  said,  "A  good  jump  requires  a  running  start,  and  one  must  go 
back  to  take  it."  About  1938  Gorky  had  painted  from  nature  a  study  of  a  waterfall 


DRAWING.      1946.      Pencil  and  colored  crayon.      I8V2  x  24Vi.      Collection  Mr.  Julien  Levy. 


29 


which  went  back  in  style  to  his  Cezanne  phase  of  fifteen  years  before.  Four  or  five 
years  later  he  made  the  jump  ahead  —  according  to  his  friend  Willem  deKooning,  five 
years  meant  nothing  to  Gorky.  The  large  Waterfall  of  about  1943  (No.  29)  has  affinities 
with  the  miraculous  greens  of  El  Greco.  Trees  and  foliage  have  become  shapes  drifted 
away  from  mere  representation.  Lyrical  concentration  has  given  way  to  hallucinatory 
images.  In  the  midst  of  the  powerful  evocation  of  sunlight  and  the  prolonged  sound  of 
falling  water  are  the  murmuring  sounds  of  a  spiritual  waterfall  —  counterparts  of  the 
inner  and  outer  world,  the  world  of  sensation  and  the  world  of  the  imagination. 

During  the  summer  of  1943,  working  in  Virginia  and  again  from  nature,  he  created 
a  series  of  lyrical  explosions  —  scores  of  drawings  in  pencil  and  colored  crayon. 
Intuitively  he  had  come  on  the  scientific  truth  stated  in  botanical  textbooks:  "All  the 
parts  of  the  plant  above  ground  are  actually  in  constant  motion,  so  that  the  branches, 
leaves  and  flowers  execute  a  veritable  dance."  These  drawings,  with  their  luxuriance  of 
forms  abstracted  from  those  of  leaf  and  flower,  and  their  profusion  of  color,  mark  his 
emergence  into  his  mature  style.  As  James  Johnson  Sweeney  wrote  shortly  afterwards: 
"Gorky's  latest  work  shows  his  realization  of  the  value  of  literally  returning  to  the 
earth.  .  .  .  Last  summer  he  decided  to  put  out  of  his  mind  the  galleries  of  57th  Street 
and  the  reproductions  of  Picasso,  Leger  and  Miro,  and  'look  into  the  grass,'  as  he  put  it. 
The  product  was  a  series  of  monumentally  drawn  details  of  what  one  might  see  in  the 
heavy  August  grass,  rendered  without  a  thought  of  his  fellow-artists'  ambitions  or 
theories  of  what  a  picture  should  be.  And  the  result  of  this  free  response  to  nature  was 
a  freshness  and  personalization  of  idiom  which  Gorky  had  never  previously  ap- 
proached, and  a  new  vocabulary  of  forms  on  which  he  is  at  present  drawing  for  a 
group  of  large  oil  paintings." 

The  spectator  might  be  inclined  to  see  in  these  drawings  only  morphological 
studies  of  natural  organisms.  It  would  be  more  pertinent,  as  Andre  Breton  pointed  out, 
to  see  them  as  hybrid  forms.  "Bv  'hybrids',"  he  wrote,  "I  mean  the  resultants  provoked 
in  an  observer  contemplating  a  natural  spectacle  with  extreme  concentration,  the 
resultants  being  a  combination  of  the  spectacle  and  a  flux  of  childhood  and  other 
memories,  and  the  observer  being  gifted  to  a  rare  degree  with  the  grace  of  emotion. 
In  short  it  is  my  concern  to  emphasize  that  Gorky  is,  of  all  the  surrealist  artists,  the 
only  one  who  maintains  direct  contact  with  nature  —  sits  down  to  paint  before  her." 

It  was  in  the  winter  of  1944  that  Gorky  met  Breton,  the  leader  to  whom  younger 
artists  looked  in  hope  of  an  American  surrealist  movement.  Although  they  could  not 
communicate  directly,  since  Breton  could  not  speak  English  and  Gorky  could  not 
speak  French,  their  liking  for  one  another  was  strong  and  immediate.  This  was  a 
period  of  upward  and  lyrical  movement  in  Gorky's  life.  He  had  experienced  the  fulfill- 
ment of  love  in  his  marriage  and  in  the  birth  of  his  first  daughter,  Maro.  Now  he  was 
to  experience  friendship  for  his  art,  and  for  himself  as  an  artist,  through  Breton. 

Manv  of  the  titles  for  his  later  paintings  and  drawings  were  invented  by  him  in 

30 


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collaboration  with  Breton,  Max  Ernst  and  Julien  Lew.  It  was  customary  for  the 
surrealists  to  find  titles  for  their  works  in  the  writings  of  poets  and  philosophers  whom 
they  admired.  For  example,  Diary  of  a  Seducer  was  suggested  by  Ernst  from  a  chapter 
by  that  name  in  the  great  philosophical  work  Either/Or  by  Soren  Kierkegaard. 

Gorky's  drawings  of  the  summer  of  1943  and  later  summers  were  the  sources  for 
most  of  his  later  paintings.  From  now  on,  new  developments  in  his  imagery  and  even 
his  style  appeared  first  in  his  drawings,  and  were  embodied  in  his  paintings  a  vear  or 
so  later.  Often  he  squared  off  a  drawing  and  transferred  it  to  canvas,  neither  adding  to 
nor  subtracting  from  the  original  conception.  It  was  a  matter  of  concretizing  ideas 
rather  than  creating  them.  Gorky  considered  a  drawing  as  a  plan  or  blueprint,  follow- 
ing its  indications  exactly.  It  is  fascinating  to  observe  how  the  forms  of  the  drawing, 
translated  into  painting,  took  on  body  and  weight. 

In  1944  Gorky,  working  directly  from  the  preceding  summer's  drawings,  produced 
a  series  of  paintings  marked  by  a  new  wealth  of  imagery,  freedom  of  handling,  and 


THE  LEAF  OF   THE  ARTICHOKE  IS   AN   OWL. 
Wolfgang  S.  Schwabacher. 


1944.      Oil.      28    x    36.      Collection   Mr.   and  Mrs. 


32 


LANDSCAPE  TABLE.      1945.      Oil.      36  x  48.      Collection  Mr.  Julien  Levy. 


richness  of  color.  Pushing  to  extremes  in  color-sensation,  he  creates  arresting  and 
frequently  poignant  parallels  to  extremes  of  mood.  Boldly  striking  out  towards  new 
limits  of  experience,  he  permits  himself  new  liberties:  a  full-bodied,  barbaric  range  of 
color,  combined  with  sombre,  stabilizing,  overpainted  earths  in  The  Liver  is  the 
Cock's  Comb;  bleached,  wave-washed  rubbings  in  Good  Afternoon  Mrs.  Lincoln; 
vibrant,  transparent  greens  and  reds  in  Water  of  the  Flowery  Mill.  Of  these  paintings 
Breton  wrote,  in  the  foreword  to  Gorky's  exhibition  of  1945:  "Here  for  the  first  time 
nature  is  treated  as  a  cryptogram.  .  .  .  Here  is  an  art  entirely  new,  at  the  antipodes  of 
those  tendencies  of  today,  fashion  aiding  confusion,  which  simulate  surrealism  by  a 
limited  and  superficial  counterfeit  of  its  style.  Here  is  the  terminal  of  a  most  noble 
evolution,  a  most  patient  and  rugged  development  which  has  been  Gorkv's  for  the 
past  twenty  years." 

The  most  remarkable  work  of  this  year,  the  large  The  Liver  is  the  Cock's  Comb, 
according  to  Breton  "should  be  considered  the  great  open  door  to  the  world  of 
analogy."  Gorky's  own  words  for  it  were:  "The  song  of  a  cardinal,  liver,  mirrors  that 


33 


have  not  caught  reflection,  the  aggressively  heraldic  branches,  the  saliva  of  the 
hungry  man  whose  face  is  painted  with  white  chalk."  In  this  and  other  late  paintings 
Gorky  frequently  used  such  primitive  symbols  as  man's  body  organs,  the  liver  or 
viscera.  These  images  floating  in  deep  quietness  suggest  the  intimate  poetry  of  help- 
lessness at  birth,  unconscious  wishes,  words  of  a  lost  and  ancient  language,  remem- 
bered only  in  dreams. 

After  these  attempts  to  work  out  the  problem  of  presenting  crystallized  images  in 
an  organized  plastic  space-world,  and  simultaneously  to  achieve  this  through  full 
color,  Gorky  turned  temporarily  to  the  opposite  extreme.  In  a  series  of  paintings  from 
1944  to  early  1946  (Nos.  35,  38,  39-41,  44)  he  deliberately  limited  his  objectives, 
working  almost  entirely  in  black  and  white  and  gray,  with  a  few  notes  of  brilliant 
color.  For  the  perfect  flatness  of  white  paper,  the  ideal  two-dimensional  plane,  he 
substituted  the  pure  canvas,  thus  maintaining  this  ideal  extension.  The  tones  which 
he  now  applies  sparingly,  often  transparent,  no  more  than  a  breath,  cut  into  the  virgin 
whiteness  of  the  picture  plane.  Isolated  shapes  move  in  their  own  orbits;  touches  of 
color,  elliptical  taches  further  activate  space.  They  establish  islands;  these  in  turn  are 
cut  off  by  encircling  areas.  He  isolates  the  separate  words  of  his  sentences,  and  the 
letters  of  his  words,  and  by  deleting  the  connections,  lends  them  a  peculiar  importance 
-  the  importance  of  position.  His  meandering  and  rapid  line  is  like  the  maze  ot 
Near-Eastern  and  Persian  calligraphy.  If  we  follow  it  closely  from  left  to  right  it  may 
be  seen  to  move  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  canvas  without  ever  coming  to  rest,  one 
space  invariably  opening  into  another  by  however  narrow  a  passage.  It  varies  in 
thickness  and  emphasis,  differing  in  this  from  Miro's  line,  which  is  singularly  uniform. 
This  liquid  and  rapidly-moving  black  line  of  which  Gorky  was  such  a  master,  attains 
the  speed  of  a  car  moving  down  a  macadam  highway  which,  meeting  no  opposition 
from  the  road  surface,  is  held  back  only  by  its  own  weight;  Gorky's  line  meets  little 
opposition  in  the  picture  plane,  which  is  kept  immaterial  as  in  a  drawing.  The  speed 
of  the  drawing  activates  the  space  which  is  not  cluttered  up  by  material  presences. 
This  speed  affects  us  in  much  the  same  way  as  music;  we  apprehend  it  through  its 
inner  rhythm.  Here  line  serves  a  double  function:  it  is  at  once  a  reduction  of  an  image 
or  form,  and  a  line  of  communication  between  the  divided  worlds  of  the  artist  and  the 
spectator.  The  artist  sends  a  message  over  this  line,  the  spectator  receives  it. 

Looking  into  the  grass,  Gorky  had  found  a  wealth  of  forms,  and  had  abstracted 
these  forms  to  a  line.  Musicians  and  mathematicians  were  fascinated  by  his  work 
because  of  his  ability  to  achieve  this  high  level  of  abstraction,  the  clarity  of  mathe- 
matical equations  nevertheless  infused  with  poetry.  This  poetry  does  not  present  itself 
well  labelled,  but  rather  in  the  form  of  cryptogram.  Gorky  liked  to  say,  "I  never  put 
a  lace  on  an  image." 


31 


THE  UNATTAINABLE.      1945.      Oil.      41  Va  x  29Va.      Collection  Mr.  Julien  Levy. 


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VI 

Gorky  had  identified  himself  with  the  most  dynamic  visions  of  our  time  in  a  long 
and  arduous  development.  Now  he  was  ready  to  achieve  a  synthesis  of  knowledge 
and  creative  power.  In  the  next  short  years  he  attained  his  full  stature,  which  grew 
continually  until  the  end.  Fittingly,  he  was  to  express  himself  most  fully  as  tragic- 
poet.  There  had  always  been  a  deep  undertone  of  tragedy  latent  in  himself  and  in  his 
art.  And  perhaps  his  acutely  sensitive  mind  was  responding  to  the  dominant  creative 
mood  of  his  generation.  As  David-Henry  Kahnweiler  has  aptly  said:  "The  new  genera- 
tion is  more  wild  and  feels  incapable  of  resisting  whatever  may  batter  at  the  gates  of 
thought.  Violence  and  death  have  been  admitted  into  the  sacred  precincts.  It  is  the 
feeling  of  tragedy  which  dominates  the  life  of  this  generation  and  fills  its  art." 

In  his  Lettres  dn  voyant  Rimbaud  had  written  these  lines,  which  Gorky  loved: 
"The  poet  will  define  the  quantity  of  the  unknown  arising  in  his  time,  in  the  universal 
soul;  he  will  give  more  than  the  formula  of  his  thought,  more  than  the  annotation  of 
his  march  towards  Progress!  Enormity  becoming  norm  absorbed  by  everyone,  he  will 
be  truly  a  multiplicator  of  progress!"  For  Gorkv  the  "quantity  of  the  unknown  arising 
in  his  time"  was  the  knowledge  of  the  unconscious.  He  accepted  the  role  of  normalizer, 
finding  new  plastic  forms  to  express  discoveries  made  in  underground  labyrinths 
which  he  had  entered  without  fear  of  the  unknown,  and  images  to  convey  the  enor- 
mous landscape  of  the  uncharted  world  of  the  psyche.  He  will  no  longer  evoke  this 
world  in  an  autobiographical  sense  but  as  the  universally-sensed  depthground  of 
everyman.  He  will  no  longer  merely  enumerate  known  quantities  but  will  suggest 
quantities  pregnant  with  a  lightning  which  had  as  vet  found  no  conductor. 

Bv  now  he  had  developed  maximum  technical  flexibilitv  and  control  and  was 
readv  to  create  his  most  complete  and  masterly  works.  Advancing  from  the  simple  to 
the  complex,  he  had  evolved  a  final,  highly  original  series  of  equations  for  his  system 
of  images  and  space.  Now  his  aim  was  to  give  corporeal  reality  to  his  ideas;  having 
found  measurable  equivalents  for  the  signs  in  his  equations,  he  sought  to  balance 
weight  against  weight  within  the  limit  of  the  work  until  it  became  a  harmonious  whole. 

In  this  system  space  becomes  pure  extension:  the  image  is  balanced  against  empti- 
ness which  it  invades,  or  disappears  into;  he  obtains  a  wonderfully  subtle  and  complex 
balance  of  volumes  of  space,  and  elliptoids,  which  seem  to  move  upward  against  a 
surface  tension  that  remains,  or  attempts  to  remain,  at  a  dead  calm.  These  paintings 
are  studies  in  the  control  of  objects  and  images,  and  the  deceleration  of  their  motions. 
The  surface  tension  is  so  great  that  it  seems  difficult  for  submerged  material  to  break 
through,  or  for  the  spectator  to  see  down  through  the  exterior.  Nevertheless,  the 
attentive  imagination  may  respond  to  sequences  of  metaphor,  symbol  and  allusion. 

Dali's  definition,  "Bv  a  double  image  is  meant  such  a  representation  of  an  object 
that  it  is  also  without  the  slightest  physical  or  anatomical  change,  the  representation 

37 


<>1  another  entirely  different  object,"  was  familiar  to  Gorky.  But  Gorky's  double  images, 
more  closely  related  to  James  Joyce's  elaborate  analogies,  are  formed  of  a  condensa- 
tion of  two  or  more  images  —  a  technique  noted  by  Freud  in  certain  wit-formations. 
The  parts  of  the  original  images  surviving  in  the  newly  condensed  image,  retain 
sufficient  power  to  evoke  all  the  images  from  which  they  are  derived.  This  multiple- 
meaning  image,  whether  word  or  shape,  is  an  economical  device,  but  one  which 
makes  unusual  demands  on  the  spectator. 

The  first  painting  which  fullv  embodies  Gorky's  final  vision  was  the  Diary  of  a 
Seducer  (No.  37),  dated  1945.  In  color  it  is  related  to  his  black,  white  and  gray  paint- 
ings; but  in  richness  of  imagery  and  form  it  anticipates  his  final  work.  Its  mood  is 
apocalyptic;  it  evokes  a  twilight  or  dawn  world  whose  shapes  descend  through  a  mist 
of  partial  obscurity  or  ascend  nebulously  to  partial  emergence.  On  the  deeper  level  of 
the  psyche,  it  evokes  the  borderline  world  between  waking  and  sleeping,  teeming 
with  latent  images;  on  the  universal  level  of  epic  symbolism,  a  world  of  life  and  death. 
The  desolation,  silence  and  isolation  of  this  black  wasteland  are  bitter-chill.  And  yet, 
as  always  with  Gorkv,  sadness  is  a  means  to  intensify  perception.  Looking  over  the 
edge  of  the  precipice  into  the  abyss,  he  learns  the  beauty  of  what  he  dreams  of  losing 
forever. 

In  the  next  two  years  Gorky  did  several  other  grisaille  paintings,  and  also  very 
large  grisaille  drawings  in  which  he  used  charcoal,  pastel,  white  chalk  and  crayon  in 
a  manner  suggesting  at  times  the  grace  of  Watteau.  He  had  admired  enormously  the 
Ingres  Odalisque  in  the  Metropolitan.  Though  in  Ingres'  time  such  a  grisaille  was 
considered  as  only  a  preparatory  study  for  a  full-colored  painting,  it  had  seemed  to 
Gorky  a  finished  painting,  to  which  it  was  not  necessary  to  add  color.  Had  not  Picasso, 
also  verv  much  aware  of  Ingres'  grisailles,  done  large  paintings  including  Guernica  in 
a  blaek-to-grav  tonality?  In  all  this  group,  the  mood  is  nocturnal;  they  are  the  painterly 
parallel  to  Rimbaud's  lines,  "Mes  faims,  c'est  les  bouts  d'air  npir."  In  a  sense  they  are 
the  final  development  of  the  essential  mood  of  the  ink  drawings  of  1932. 

In  January  1946,  a  fire  reduced  Gorky's  Connecticut  studio  to  ashes,  destroying 
about  thirty  of  his  paintings,  half  of  them  done  in  the  previous  nine  months.  Not  a 
book  or  canvas  was  saved.  One  month  later  Gorky  was  stricken  with  cancer  and  sub- 
jected to  a  drastic  operation.  The  tragic  and  downward  movement  of  his  life  had 
begun.  For  Gorky,  valuing  health  as  a  peasant  does,  this  operation  was  a  traumatic 
experience,  an  attack  on  the  integrity  of  his  ego,  a  fatal  impairment  of  his  physical 
completeness.  But  he  was  also  a  poet,  and  for  the  poet  it  was  a  voyage  —  a  quasi- 
mystical  experience  of  the  unknown. 

The  next  two  vears  were  a  period  of  extraordinary-  creativity.  It  seemed  as  though, 
with  a  premonition  that  he  had  not  long  to  live,  he  was  trying  to  compress  into  the 
short  time  remaining  the  work  of  a  lifetime.  "This  summer,"  he  wrote  in  the  fall  of 
1946,  "I  finished  a  lot  of  drawings  —  292  of  them.  Never  have  I  been  able  to  do  so  much 

38 


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work,  and  they  are  good,  too."  Often  he  painted  all  day  until  three  or  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  It  is  not  difficult  to  understand  his  writing,  "Had  I  known  that  painting 
was  so  exhausting  I  should  not  have  chosen  it  as  a  career.  But,  no  matter,  it  must  have 
been  my  destiny.  I  must  have  been  born  to  it. ' 

A  group  of  some  ten  large  paintings,  most  of  them  completed  in  1947,  represent  a 
final  synthesis  of  his  art.  In  them  his  imagery  reached  its  utmost  luxuriance,  and  his 
forms  attained  their  greatest  freedom  and  richness.  Abandoning  purely  linear  design 
and  thin  painting,  he  covered  the  canvas  fully,  building  layer  upon  layer  of  tones  until 
he  achieved  the  most  sumptuous  color  of  his  entire  career.  Each  of  these  paintings 
stands  by  itself  in  mood  and  meaning;  Agony  exemplifies  Dionysian  passion  and  dra- 
matic intensity;  The  Orator,  intellectual  fantasy  and  wit;  The  Betrothal,  the  Apollonian 
qualities  of  perfection,  elegance  and  hermetism. 

Most  of  this  group  are  poetic  expressions  of  a  sex  cycle.  The  idea-content  of  dreams 
is  recast  and  now  flares  up  in  a  series  of  compelling  visual  images.  The  Plow  and  the 
Song  contains  the  theme  of  fertilization  and  birth;  The  Betrothal,  that  of  the  wooing 
and  drawing  together  of  the  sexes;  Agony,  the  battle  of  the  sexes;  Dark  Green  Painting, 
a  withdrawal  into  a  hermetic  world;  and  finally  the  Last  Painting  expresses  the  theme 
of  despair  and  death.  Gorky's  work  shifts  between  the  drama  of  sadism,  whose 
genealogv  goes  back  to  the  poetrv  of  the  Marquis  de  Sade,  Baudelaire,  and  Lautrea- 
mont,  and  the  drama  of  occultism,  whose  genealogy  goes  back  to  Gerard  de  Nerval 
and  Mallarme.  It  shifts,  in  Nietzschean  terms,  between  wild  Dionysian  emotion  and 
Apollonian  order. 

No  physiological  hypothesis  can  explain  the  manner  of  Gorkv  s  life  in  this  period 
of  intense  creative  activity.  It  is  a  perspective  of  which  every  line  recedes  toward  a 
dream  and  every  dream  casts  up  an  image.  With  powerful  originality  he  then  finds 
plastic  expression  for  these  images.  He  creates  a  world.  This  world  is  dark  and  full  of 
foreboding.  In  Agony  this  foreboding  smolders  in  the  deep  reds  and  browns;  in  Dark 
Green  Painting  the  red-browns  give  way  to  more  sombre  colors  as  foreboding  deepens 
into  despair;  and  finally.  Last  Painting  is  pervaded  by  a  sense  of  isolation  which 
recalls  Kierkegaard's  lines,  "Solitude  has  seven  skins  —  nothing  can  penetrate  it!"  This 
last  work  comes  close  to  achieving  Gorky's  expressed  desire  to  recapture  the  perfect 
identity  of  impulse  and  expression  —  to  make  painting  as  direct  on  the  canvas  as  the 
emotion  was  within  him  —  so  common  in  children  or  in  moments  of  great  stress  when 
the  barriers  of  thought  are  swept  aside  by  the  urgent  need  for  direct  communication. 
Like  the  scream  in  the  night,  it  is  violent,  naked.  A  painting  of  raw  emotion  —  non-art. 
At  all  points  it  touches  the  periphery  of  human  feeling;  it  sings  of  the  bevond.  Death 
has,  at  last,  triumphed  over  Eros! 


41 


Biographical  Note 


Fact  and  fancy  are  intertwined  in  the  pub- 
lished accounts  of  Gorky's  early  life.  In 
giving  autobiographical  information  he 
sometimes  showed  the  same  kind  of  fantasy 
as  in  his  art:  for  example,  his  often  repeated 
and  generally  accepted  statement  that  he 
was  born  in  Tiflis,  Russia.  The  following 
account  is  based  on  the  best  available  in- 
formation and  may  or  may  not  be  correct  in 
every  detail,  especially  in  the  early  years. 

His  name  was  actually  Wostanig  Adoyan, 
and  he  took  the  name  Arshile  Gorkv  only 
after  he  came  to  America.  He  was  born  of 
Armenian  parents  at  Hayotz  Dzore,  a  vil- 
lage on  Lake  Van  in  Turkish  Armenia.  The 
birth-date  he  usually  gave  was  October  25, 
1904.  His  father  was  a  prosperous  farmer, 
raising  sheep,  horses,  wheat  and  fruit.  His 
mother's  father  was  the  last  of  many  gen- 
erations of  priests  of  the  Gregorian  Apos- 
tolic Church.  The  bov  was  the  third  of  four 
children,  the  others  being  girls.  When  he 
was  about  three  his  father  left  home  to 
escape  military  service  or  the  periodical 
Turkish  massacres  of  Armenians,  and  was 
not  seen  again  by  his  family  for  years.  Later 
the  mother  took  her  children  to  live  in  the 
city  of  Van.  The  boy  did  not  speak  until  five 
or  six  years  old,  but  after  that  he  attended 
an  American  missionary  school  and  was  a 
good  student.  He  drew  constantly,  from  an 
early  age.  The  country  around  Van,  with  its 
high  mountains  and  great  lake,  and  the 
songs  and  dances  of  the  Armenian  people, 
left  lifelong  memories  which  in  later  years 
often  reappeared  in  his  talk  and  in  his  art. 

During  the  first  World  War,  when  the 
Turks  began  systematic  extermination  of 
the  Armenians,  and  Van  was  occupied  by 
the  Russian  army,  the  Adovans  like  many 
inhabitants  of  the  city  fled  to  Russian  Trans- 
caucasia, where  they  settled  in  Erivan,  pres- 
ent capital  of  Soviet  Armenia.  They  had  lost 


everything,  and  life  was  hard.  The  boy  went 
to  an  Armenian  secondary  school,  and  after 
school  hours  worked  to  help  support  the 
family,  but  also  drew  continually  and  spent 
his  earnings  freely  for  paper  and  pencils. 
The  family  moved  north  to  Tiflis  for  a  time, 
but  returned  to  Erivan,  where  the  mother 
died  about  1918. 

The  two  older  sisters  had  gone  to  Amer- 
ica several  years  earlier,  and  after  the 
mother's  death  the  boy  and  his  younger 
sister  Vartoosh  found  their  way  back  to 
Tiflis.  Joining  a  partv  of  Armenian  emi- 
grants, they  reached  New  York  in  1920  and 
went  to  live  with  their  sisters  in  Boston.  For 
a  while  Gorkv  worked  in  a  factory,  but 
spent  so  much  time  drawing  that  he  lost  his 
job.  He  then  moved  to  Providence,  where 
he  lived  for  several  years;  he  later  said  he 
had  worked  for  a  short  time  at  the  Rhode 
Island  School  of  Design  and  had  studied 
civil  engineering  at  Brown  Universitv  for 
three  years,  painting  in  his  spare  time.  Re- 
turning to  Boston  about  1923,  he  continued 
to  paint,  and  spent  many  hours  in  museums, 
being  particularly  impressed  by  Copley. 
For  a  while  he  painted  and  sold  likenesses 
of  the  American,  presidents.  Most  of  his 
earnings  he  spent  on  painting  materials. 

In  1925,  in  his  twenty-first  year,  he  came 
to  New  York,  living  in  a  studio  on  Sullivan 
Street  near  Washington  Square  until  about 
1930,  when  he  moved  to  a  large  studio  at 
36  Union  Square  which  he  kept  the  rest  of 
his  life.  In  October  1925  he  entered  the 
Grand  Central  School  of  Art  as  a  student, 
hut  because  of  his  talent  and  his  poverty, 
Edmund  Greacen,  director  of  the  school,  at 
once  made  him  a  teacher  in  the  sketch  class, 
and  the  next  year  gave  him  an  antique  class 
and  a  life  class.  He  taught  at  the  school  until 
the  end  of  the  1930/1  term,  teaching  life 
drawing  and  painting.   He  was  a  popular 


42 


teacher,  and  left  chiefly  to  have  more  time 
for  painting.  From  1926  he  also  taught 
private  pupils  in  his  studio,  continuing  to 
do  so  until  about  1936;  among  them  were 
Hans  Burkhardt,  Ethel  Schwabacher,  Minna 
Metzger  and  Nathan  Bijur. 

As  for  his  own  training,  he  was  practi- 
cally self-taught;  he  learned  by  drawing 
and  painting  and  by  constant  looking  at 
other  art,  past  and  present.  He  haunted 
museums,  galleries  and  art  bookshops.  He 
earlv  became  an  adherent  of  advanced  art. 
his  greatest  admirations  among  modern 
painters  being  Picasso,  Braque,  Leger,  Gris, 
de  Chirico,  Kandinsky  and  Miro.  A  tre- 
mendous enthusiast,  overflowing  with  ideas 
and  liking  to  express  them,  he  became  a 
conspicuous  proselytizer  of  the  modern 
movement.  In  spite  of  difficulty  with  Eng- 
lish, he  had  a  remarkable  if  unconventional 
gift  for  self-expression  in  words,  and  talked 
about  art  in  a  vivid,  illuminating  and  highly 
poetic  wav.  Tall,  powerfully-built,  swarthy, 
with  black  hair  and  dark  eyes,  he  was  a 
striking  figure,  and  soon  became  a  well- 
known  character  in  the  New  York  art  world. 
Among  his  early  friends  were  Stuart  Davis. 
Isamu  Noguchi,  Willem  deKooning,  Saul 
Scharv,  Baphael  Soyer,  David  Burliuk, 
Nicolai  Cikovsky,  John  D.  Graham,  Sidnev 
Janis,  Frederick  J.  Kiesler,  William  Musch- 
enheim  and  Bernard  Davis. 

Practicallv  all  his  life  he  suffered  from 
povertv,  and  his  friends  and  pupils  helped 
him  as  much  as  thev  could  bv  buying  pic- 
tures. About  1932.  unable  to  afford  painting 
materials,  he  worked  for  some  time  entirely 
on  drawings.  About  1935  he  joined  the 
Federal  Art  Project  of  the  WPA,  remaining 
on  it  for  several  years.  His  most  important 
work  was  a  series  of  aviation  murals  orig- 
inally intended  for  Floyd  Bennett  Field, 
and  later  executed  for  the  Newark  Airport. 
Designs  for  them  were  shown  in  the 
Museum  of  Modern  Art's  exhibition  "New 
Horizons   in   American   Art"   in    1936,   and 


were  the  subject  of  the  first  magazine  article 
on  him,  by  Kiesler.  Through  the  architect 
William  Lescaze  he  was  commissioned  in 
1938  to  execute  two  large  murals  for  the 
Aviation  Building  at  the  World's  Fair  in 
New  York.  In  1941  he  decorated  Ben  Mar- 
den's  Riviera  night  club,  Fcrt  Lee,  N.  J. 

The  first  dealer  to  handle  his  work  was 
J.  B.  Neumann,  soon  after  he  came  to  New 
York.  His  first  showing  in  a  museum  was  at 
the  Museum  of  Modern  Art  in  1930,  in  the 
exhibition,  "46  Painters  and  Sculptors 
under  35."  He  was  also  shown  by  the 
Societe  Anonyme  in  1931.  His  first  one-man 
exhibition,  of  thirty-seven  paintings  from 
1926  to  1930,  was  in  February  1934  at  the 
Mellon  Galleries,  Philadelphia,  managed  by 
Philip  Boyer.  An  exhibition  of  his  drawings 
was  held  at  the  Bover  Galleries,  Phila- 
delphia, in  September  1935,  and  at  the 
Guild  Art  Gallery,  New  York,  that  Decem- 
ber. The  Boyer  Gallery  in  New  York  gave 
him  a  one-man  show  in  1938.  These  one- 
man  exhibitions,  however,  did  little  to  im- 
prove his  finances. 

At  the  Whitney  Museum's  exhibition, 
"Abstract  Painting  in  America,"  in  February 
1935,  four  of  his  paintings  were  included 
and  one  was  reproduced  in  the  catalogue. 
From  1936  the  Whitney  Museum  included 
him  in  all  but  four  of  its  annual  painting 
exhibitions,  and  in  four  drawing  annuals; 
and  in  1937  purchased  his  Painting  (No.  18) 
—  his  first  museum  purchase.  In  1941  the 
Museum  of  Modern  Art  acquired  three 
works:  Xhorkom,  by  gift  from  Wolfgang  S. 
Schwabacher;  Argula,  by  gift  of  Bernard 
Davis;  and  the  drawing  Objects,  by  pur- 
chase. In  August  1941  the  San  Francisco 
Museum  of  Art  held  a  retrospective  exhibi- 
tion including  twenty  paintings,  and  Jeanne 
Reynal  gave  the  Museum  his  Enigmatic 
Combat.  Gorky  spent  several  months  that 
summer  in  San  Francisco. 

Gorky  married  Agnes  Magruder  on  Sep- 
tember 15,  1941.  Her  courage  and  her  faith 


43 


iii  him  as  an  artist  helped  them  through 
many  difficult  times  in  the  next  few  years. 
A  daughter,  Maro,  was  born  in  April  1943, 
and  a  second  daughter,  Natasha,  in  August 
1945.  Gorky  loved  his  children  and  was  a 
good  father.  Beginning  with  the  summer 
after  their  marriage,  when  they  spent  three 
weeks  in  Connecticut,  they  were  able  to 
live  more  and  more  of  each  year  in  the 
country:  at  Agnes  Gorky's  parents'  farm  in 
Hamilton,  Virginia,  in  the  summer  of  1943 
and  nine  months  in  the  summer  and  fall  of 

1944,  and  again  in  1946;  in  Roxbury,  Con- 
necticut, in  the  summer  and  fall  of  1945; 
and  in  Sherman,  Connecticut,  from  Decem- 
ber 1947.  Gorky  felt  more  at  home  in  the 
country  than  in  the  city,  and  these  years 
brought  a  new  lyrical  phase  of  his  art,  in 
which  landscape  motifs  played  a  part. 

From  about  1940  on,  he  made  many 
friends  among  advanced  artists  and  writers, 
including  Jeanne  Revnal,  Margaret  La 
Farge  Osborn,  Alexander  Calder,  Matta 
Echaurren,  Andre  Breton,  Max  Ernst  and 
Yves  Tanguy.  In  1945  Julien  Levy  became 
his  dealer,  and  every  year  thereafter  gave 
him  an  exhibition:   of  paintings  in  March 

1945,  April  1946,  and  March  1948,  and  of 
drawings  in  February  1947.  The  first  exhi- 
bition, to  which  Breton  contributed  an  elo- 
quent foreword,  brought  him  increased 
recognition  among  artists,  as  did  each  suc- 
ceeding one.  His  inclusion  in  the  "Fourteen 
Americans"  exhibition  at  the  Museum  of 
Modern  Art  in  1946  enlarged  his  reputation 
with  the  general  public.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  critical  reception  remained  generallv 
negative  or  hostile.  In  his  last  years,  Clem- 
ent Greenberg  of  The  Nation  became  his 


leading  champion  among  critics.  His  works 
never  attained  a  wide  sale  in  his  lifetime. 

In  late  January  1946  his  studio  in  Sher- 
man, and  about  thirty7  of  his  paintings,  were 
destroyed  by  fire.  He  took  the  loss  philo- 
sophically, saying,  "Sometimes  it  is  very 
good  to  have  everything  cleaned  out  like 
that,  and  be  forced  to  begin  again."  About 
a  month  later  he  underwent  a  serious  opera- 
tion for  cancer,  and  although  his  strong 
physique  gave  him  a  remarkable  recovery, 
he  was  never  entirely  himself  physically 
thereafter.  However,  his  remaining  two 
years  saw  the  largest  production  and  the 
finest  artistic  achievement  of  his  whole  life. 
In  the  summer  and  fall  of  1946,  spent  in 
Virginia,  he  produced  about  three  hundred 
drawings.  The  following  summer  he  re- 
mained in  his  New  York  studio,  working 
intensively  on  the  large  paintings  which 
were  his  greatest  achievement.  In  Decem- 
ber 1947  the  family  moved  to  Sherman, 
where  he  lived  until  his  death.  In  early  July 
1948  he  was  involved  in  an  automobile  acci- 
dent in  which  his  neck  was  broken  and  his 
painting  arm  temporarily  paralyzed.  Three 
weeks  later,  on  July  21,  1948,  he  committed 
suicide  by  hanging,  in  the  barn  of  his  farm 
in  Sherman.  The  reasons  for  his  act  are  com- 
plex and  need  not  be  detailed  here.  But  it 
must  be  said  that  it  was  not  due  to  any 
sense  of  failure  as  an  artist,  as  has  some- 
times been  stated.  On  the  contrary,  he  was 
well  aware  that  he  was  at  the  height  of  his 
artistic  powers  and  growing  everv  year.  His 
death  before  he  had  reached  forty-four  was 
a  tragic  loss  to  the  art  of  America  and  the 
world. 

Lloyd  Goodrich 


44 


Acknowledgments 


The  Whitney  Museum  of  American  Art 
wishes  to  express  its  deep  gratitude  to  Ethel 
Schwabacher  for  her  invaluable  cooperation 
in  this  memorial  exhibition  to  Arshile 
Gorky.  Mrs.  Schwabacher,  who  was  a  pupil 
and  close  friend  of  Gorkv's.  and  who  is 
writing  a  book  on  the  artist,  not  only  made 
available  all  her  records  and  information, 
but  gave  unsparinglv  of  her  time  and 
knowledge  in  helping  to  select  the  exhibi- 
tion, and  in  contributing  her  highly  per- 
ceptive and  poetic  essav  on  the  man  and 
his  art.  We  also  wish  to  extend  our  sincere 
thanks  to  Wolfgang  S.  Schwabacher  for  his 
constant  generositv  in  many  matters  con- 
nected with  the  exhibition. 

The  Museum  wishes  to  acknowledge  its 
indebtedness  to  Mrs.  J.  C.  Phillips  for  her 
generosity  in  lending  her  late  husbands 
works:  and  to  Julien  Lew  for  lending 
works  from  his  collection,  and  for  his  con- 
stant cooperation  throughout  the  planning 
of  the  exhibition. 

We  wish  to  thank  Miss  Jeanne  Revnal  for 
valuable  advice  and  assistance,  and  for  her 
courtesv  in  lending  her  pictures;  and  Mrs. 
David  Metzger  for  her  unstinting  help  in 
securing  information,  and  the  generous  loan 
of  her  pictures.  Special  thanks  are  due  to 
the  artist's  sisters.  Mrs.  Yartoosh  Mooradian 
and  Mrs.  Satenig  Avedisian,  who  furnished 
Mrs.  Schwabacher  with  essential  biographi- 
cal information. 

Many  of  Gorkv's  friends  and  other  indi- 
viduals in  the  art  world  have  given  generous 
assistance  to  Mrs.  Schwabacher  and  the 
Museum.  We  wish  especiallv  to  thank  the 
following:  Mr.  Louis  Allen  Abramson.  Mrs. 
Mildred  H.  Baker.  Mr.  Nathan  I.  Bijur.  Mr. 
B.  Willborg  Bi'orck,  Mr.  Hans  Burkhardt. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  David  Burliuk.  Mr.  Leo  Cas- 


telli,  Mr.  Nicolai  Cikovsky,  Mr.  Bernard 
Davis.  Mr.  Stuart  Davis.  Mr.  Wyatt  Davis, 
Mr.  Willem  deKconing,  Mr.  Burgovne 
Diller.  Mrs.  Edmund  Greacen,  Mr.  Clement 
Greenberg,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  M.  Gross- 
man. Mr.  Joseph  H.  Hirshhorn.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Sidney  Jam's.  Mr.  Frederick  J.  Kiesler, 
Mr.  William  Lescaze,  Miss  Olive  M.  Lvford, 
Mr.  Pierre  Matisse,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Warren 
S.  McCulloch.  Miss  Dorothy  C.  Miller,  Mr. 
William  Miller.  Mr.  J.  B.  Neumann,  Mr. 
Isamu  Noguchi.  Mrs.  Margaret  La  Farge 
Osborn,  Mr.  Haic  T.  Partizian,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Oscar  Rosen,  Mr.  Saul  Scharv,  Mr. 
Mever  Schapiro.  Mrs.  Bernard  B.  Smith. 
Mr.  Raphael  Sover.  Mr.  James  Johnson 
Sweeney,  Dr.  Harry  Weiss,  Mrs.  Joseph  D. 
Weiss  and  Mr.  Erhard  Weyhe. 

The  Museum  wishes  to  make  grateful 
acknowledgment  to  the  following  collec- 
tors and  museums  who  have  generously 
lent  works  to  the  exhibition:  Mrs.  John  E. 
Abbott,  New  York;  Mr.  Louis  Allen  Abram- 
son, New  York;  Mr.  Joshua  Binion  Calm. 
New  York;  Mr.  Leo  Castelli,  New  York;  Mr. 
Bernard  Davis,  Philadelphia;  Estate  of 
Arshile  Gorkv;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Donald  Gross- 
man, New  York;  Mrs.  Jean  Hebbeln,  New 
York;  Mr.  Joseph  H.  Hirshhorn,  New  York; 
Mr.  Julien  Lew.  Bridgewater,  Conn.;  Mrs. 
David  Metzger,  New  York;  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
William  Muschenheim,  Ann  Arbor.  Mich.; 
The  Museum  of  Modern  Art.  New  York; 
Mrs.  Margaret  La  Farge  Osborn,  New  York; 
Philadelphia  Museum  of  Art;  Miss  Jeanne 
Revnal,  New  York;  Mr.  Nelson  A.  Rocke- 
feller. New  York;  San  Francisco  Museum  of 
Art;  Mr.  Saul  Scharv.  New  York;  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Wolfgang  S.  Schwabacher,  New  York; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Stephan,  New  York;  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Robert  Warshow.  New  York. 


45 


Catal 


ogue 


The  arrangement  is  chronological.  The  dimensions  are  in  inches,  height  preceding  width.  An 
asterisk  indicates  that  the  work  is  illustrated. 

Nos.  2,  6,  11,  13,  16,  22,  33,  35,  42,  46,  51,  55,  91  and  94  are  being  shown  at  the  Whitney 
Museum  but  not  at  the  Walker  Art  Center  or  the  San  Francisco  Museum  of  Art. 

Certain  works  are  for  sale.  Prices  will  be  furnished  on  request. 


OILS 

Nos.  2.  7,  10,  11,  13,  17,  19,  20,  23-26,  29-31, 
40,  43,  46,  48,  50,  51  and  53-55  have  been 
lent  by  the  Estate  of  Arshile  Gorky.  Nos.  28, 
36,  37,  39,  41,  44  and  49  have  been  lent  by 
Mr.  Julien  Levy. 

1  Portrait  of  Vartoosh.     1922.     20  x 
15.     Lent  by  Mr.  Joseph  H.  Hirshhorn. 

2  Still  Life  with  Skull,  c.  1925.  33x26. 

°3  The  Antique  Cast.  1926.  36M  x  46. 
Lent  by  Mrs.  David  Metzger. 

"4  The  Artist  and  His  Mother.  1926- 
29.  60  x  50.  Collection  of  the  Whit- 
ney Museum  of  American  Art,  gift  of 
Julien  Levy  for  Maro  and  Natasha 
Gorky  in  memory  of  their  father. 

5  Composition.     1927.     43  x  33.     Lent 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Donald  Grossman. 

6  Still  Life.     1929.     36  x  48.     Lent  by 

Miss  Jeanne  Revnal. 

°7  Still  Life.     1929.     47  x  60. 

"8  Abstraction  with  Palette,  c.  1930. 
47)2  x  35)2.  Lent  by  the  Philadelphia 
Museum  of  Art. 

9  Still  Life  with  Palette,  c.  1930. 
28  x  36.     Lent  by  Mr.  Bernard  Davis. 

10  Blue  Figure  in  Chair,     c.  1933.     48 

x38. 

0 1 1   Organization.     1933-36.     49ft  x  60. 


12  Three  Roses,  c.  1934.  Trk  x  18. 
Lent  by  Mrs.  David  Metzger. 

13  Composition   with    Head.     c.    1935. 

78  x  62. 

14  Battle  at  Sunset  with  the  God  of 
the  Maize,  c.  1936.  8  x  10.  Lent 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wolfgang  S.  Schwa- 
bacher. 

°15  Enigmatic  Combat,  c.  1936.  35/4  x 
48.  Lent  by  the  San  Francisco  Mu- 
seum of  Art,  gift  of  Jeanne  Revnal. 

"16  Image  in  Xhorkom.  c.  1936.  32Js  x 
43.     Lent  by  Miss  Jeanne  Reynal. 

17  Organization,     c.  1936.     28  x  36. 

*18  Painting.  1936-37.  38  x  48.  Col- 
lection of  the  Whitney  Museum  of 
American  Art. 

19  Xhorkom.     1936.     36  x  48. 

20  Xhorkom.     c.  1936.     40  x  52. 

21  Moon  Woman,  c.  1937.  8Ji  x  6)4. 
Lent  by  Mr.  Saul  Senary. 

22  Head  Composition.  1938.  27  x  34. 
Lent  by  Mrs.  Margaret  La  Farge 
Osborn. 

23  Painting.     1938.     29  x  40. 
"24  Portrait,     c.  1938.     30ft  x  24ft. 

25  Garden  in  Sochi,     c.  1940.     25  x  29. 


Hi 


26  Garden  in  Sochi  (Study),  c.  1941. 
31  x  39. 

*27  Garden  in  Sochi.  1941.  44&  x  62)1 
Lent  by  the  Museum  of  Modern  Art, 
Purchase  Fund  and  gift  of  Wolfgang 
S.  Schwabacher. 

28  The  Pirate  II.     1943.     30  x  36. 

29  Waterfall,     c.  1943.     60^  x  44& 

30  Good  Afternoon  Mrs.  Lincoln. 
1944.     30  x  38. 

31  How  My  Mother's  Embroidered 
Apron  Unfolds  in  My  Life.  1944. 
40  x  45. 

*32  The  Leaf  of  the  Artichoke  is  an 
Owl.  1944.  28  x  36.  Lent  by  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Wolfgang  S.  Schwabacher. 

*33  The  Liver  is  the  Cock's  Comb.  1944. 
73  x  98.     Lent  by  Mrs.  Jean  Hebbeln. 

34  The  Sun,  the  Dervish  in  the  Tree. 
1944.  35%  x  47.  Lent  by  Mr.  Joshua 
Binion  Cahn. 

35  They  Will  Take  My  Island.  1944. 
37/i  x  48.  Lent  by  Miss  Jeanne 
Revnal. 

36  Water  of  the  Flowery  Mill.     1944. 

42  x  48%. 

°37  Diary  of  a  Seducer.    1945.    49%  x  62. 

38  Impatience.  1945.  24  x  30.  Lent 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  Warshow. 

"39  Landscape  Table.     1945.     36  x  48. 

40  Portrait  of  Y.D.     1945.     32  x  25. 

°41  The  Unattainable.    1945.    41«  x  29K. 

*42  The  Calendars.  1946-47.  50  x  60. 
Lent  bv  Mr.  Nelson  A.  Rockefeller. 


43  Charred  Beloved  II.     1946.     54  x  40. 

44  Nude.     1946.     50  x  38J». 

•45  Agony.  1947.  40  x  50&  Lent  by 
the  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  A.  Con- 
ger Goodyear  Fund. 

46  The  Betrothal  I.     1947.     50%  x  40. 

°47  The  Betrothal  II.  1947.  50%  x  38. 
Collection  of  the  Whitney  Museum  of 
American  Art. 

48  The  Limit.     1947.     50)1  x  62%. 

49  The  Orators.     1947.     60  x  72. 

°50  The  Plow  and  the  Song.  1947.  52 
x64. 

51  The  Plow  and  the  Song.  c.  1947. 
52  x  6VA. 

52  Soft  Night.  1947.  37%  x  50.  Lent 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Stephan. 

53  Dark  Green  Painting.  (Not  titled 
by  the  artist.)     c  1948.     43%  x  56. 

54  Golden  Brown  Painting.  (Not 
titled  by  the  artist. )   c.  1948.  43M  x  56. 

55  Last  Painting.  (Not  titled  bv  the 
artist.)     1948.     30%  x  39%. 

GOUACHES 

56  Project  for  Mural,  Marine  Building, 
World's  Fair,  c  1938.  8%  x  448. 
Lent  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Musch- 
enheim. 

57  Studv  for  Ben  Marden's  Riviera  Mu- 
rals. '  1941.  87a  x  16.  Lent  by  Mr. 
Louis  Allen  Abramson. 

58  Studv  for  Newark  Airport  Murals, 
c  1936.  mi  x  29Ts.  W.P.A.  Art  Pro- 
gram, courtesv  the  Museum  of  Mod- 
ern Art. 


47 


DRAWINGS 

Nos.  60-66,  73,  74,  83,  90,  92  and  93  have 
been  lent  by  the  Estate  of  Arshile  Gorky. 
Nos.  68,  70,  75-81  and  84-87  have  been  lent 
by  Mr.  Julien  Levy. 

Nos.  59-67  are  in  pen  and  ink  unless 
otherwise  noted,  and  were  probably  done 
about  1932.  Nos.  68-94  are  in  pencil  and 
colored  crayon  unless  otherwise  noted. 

The  probable  dates  of  undated  drawings 
are  as  follows:  1943,  Nos.  69,  73  and  74; 
1944,  Nos.  83  and  84;  1947,  Nos.  90,  91,  92, 
93  and  94. 

59  Objects.  1932.  22)1  x  30.  Lent  by 
the  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  Van 
Gogh  Purchase  Fund. 

°60  21%x27!l. 

61  19?ix2S^. 

62  21  x  29%. 

63  23%  x 18%. 

64  7%  x  26. 

65  Pencil.     18$  x  24%. 
*66  Pencil.     18%  x  24%. 

67  21%  x  28.  Lent  by  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Wolfgang  S.  Schwabacher. 

68  Anatomical  Blackboard.  1943. 
19%  x  27. 

63  Composition  II.  22/4  x  28$.  Lent 
by  Mrs.  Margaret  La  Farge  Osborn. 

°70  Study  fob  "The  Liver  is  the  Cock's 
Comb."     1943.     18%  x  24%. 

71  Virginia  Landscape.  1943.  19%  x 
26%.     Lent  by  Mrs.  Jean  Hebbeln. 

72  1943.  20  x  26$.  Lent  by  Mrs.  David 
Metzger. 


73 

19%  x  27. 

74 

18$  x  23%. 

75 

1943.  22%  x  28%, 

76 

1943.  22%  x  28%. 

76  1943. 

22%  x  28%. 

77  1943. 

Ink  and  colored  crayon.  18%  x 

24. 

78  1943. 

19%  x  27. 

79  1943. 

14.'i  x22. 

80  1943. 

20  x  26$. 

81  Study 

for  "Good  Afternoon  Mrs. 

82 


Lincoln."     1944.     19%  x  25&. 

1944.     19  x  24%.     Lent  by  Mrs.  John 
E.  Abbott. 


83  17%  x 

23%. 

84  19% x 

25%. 

85  1944. 

19%  x  25?i. 

86  1944. 

19%  x  253L 

87  1946. 

18%  x  24!,. 

88  1946. 

18%  X  24!: 

89 


Whitney    Museum   of   American   Art, 
gift  of  Wolfgang  S.  Schwabacher. 

1946.     18%  x  24%.     Lent  by  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Wolfgang  S.  Schwabacher. 


90  Study  for  "Agony."     21',  \  29%. 

91  Study  for  "The  Betrothal."  Ink 
wash  with  pencil  and  watercolor.  23% 
x  17%.     Lent  by  Miss  Jeanne  Reynal. 

92  Study  for  "The  Betrothal."    24'_>  \ 

18%. 

93  1S%  \  23 v 

91  Charcoal  with  pastel  or  colored 
crayon.  79%  x  101%.  Lent  by  Mr. 
Leo  Castelli. 


is 


Bibliography 


WRITINGS  BY  GORKY 

Stuart  Davis.  Creative  Art.  v.  9,  Sept.  1931,  p. 

213-217. 
General  Description  of  Newark  Airport  Murals. 

c.  1936.  5  p.  Unpublished.  Copy  at  Whitney 

Museum. 

BOOKS 

The  place  of  publication  is  New    York  unless 

otherwise  noted. 
Breton.  Andre:   Le  Surrealisme  et  la  Peinture. 

1945.  p.  196-199.  1  il. 

Young  Cherry  Trees  Secured  Against  Hares, 

1946.  II.  by  Gorky. 

Collection  of  the  Societe  Anom/me.  Yale  Uni- 
versity Art  Gallery,  New  Haven,  1950,  p.  34- 
35.  1  il.  [Statement  by  George  Heard  Ham- 
ilton.] 

Janis.  Sidnev:  Abstract  <b  Surrealist  Art  in 
America.  1944,  p.  89,  120.  1  il. 

ENHIBITION  CATALOGUES 

Hugo  Gallery.  New  York:  Bloodflamcs.  1947. 
[Includes  "Arshile  Gorkv"  by  Nicolas  Calas, 
p.  8.  1  il.] 

Julien  Lew  Gallery,  New  York:  Arshile  Gorki/. 
1945.  [Foreword.  "The  Eye-Spring:  Arshile 
Gorkv'  by  Andr  ■  Breton.  Also  included  in 
Breton:  Le  Surrealisme  et  la  Peinture.  1945.] 

Kootz  Gallery.  New  York:  Arshile  Gorki/,  1950. 
2  il.  [Foreword  by  Adolph  Gottlieb.] 

Mellon  Galleries,  Philadelphia:  Arshile  Gorky, 
1934.  [Statements  by  Holder  Cahill,  Stuart 
Davis.   F.  J.  Kiesler  and  Harriet  Janowitz.] 

Museum  of  Modern  Art,  N.  Y. :  Fourteen  Amer- 
icans, 1946.  p.  20-23.  4  il.  [Quotes  from 
"The  Eye-Spring:  Arshile  Gorkv"  by  Andre 
Breton,  catalogue  of  Gorkv  exhibition,  Julien 
Levy  Gallerv/ 1945.] 

Bertha  Schaefer  Gallerv.  New  York:  Hartlei/- 
Maurcr.  1950.  [Statement  by  Hans  Hofmann 
in  "Homage  to  A.  H.  Maurer."] 

Whitney  Museum  of  American  Art:  Abstract 
Painting  in  America,  1935.  1  il. 

PERIODICALS 

Balamuth.  Lewis:  I  Met  A.  Gorkv.  Color  and 
Rhyme,  v.  19.  1949.  p.  2-3. 


Barr,  Alfred  H..  Jr.:  Gorkv-deKooning-Pollock. 

[In    "7    Americans    Open    in    Venice."]    Art 

News.  v.  49,  Summer,  1950,  p.  22.  60.  1  il. 
Breuning.    Margaret:    A   Memorial   for  Arshile 

Gorkv  [In  "Fifty-Seventh  Street  in  Review."] 

Art  Digest,  v.  24.  Apr.  1,  1950,  p.  18.  1  il. 
Burliuk.     Mary:     Arshile     Gorky.     Color    and 

Rhyme,  v.  19,  1949.  p.  1-2.  oil. 
Cowley,    Malcolm:     Arshile    Gorky  —  A    Note 

from  a  Friend.  New  York  Herald  Tribune. 

Sept.  5,  1948,  Sec.  6.  p.  3. 
deKooning,    Willem.    [Letter    to    the    Editor.] 

Art  News,  v.  47.  Jan.  1949,  p.  6. 
Fetish  of  Antique  Stifles  Art  Here,  Says  Gorky 

Kin.  New  York  Keening  Post,  Sept.  15,  1926. 
Arshile  Gorky  Exhibits.  Art  Digest,  v.  10,  Jan. 

1,  1936.  p.  21. 
Greenberg,  Clement:  Ait.  The  Nation,  v.  160, 

Mar.  24,  1945,  p.  342-343. 

—  Art.  The  \ation.  v.  162.  May  4.  1946,  p. 
552-553. 

Art.  The  Naticn,  v.  166,  Jan.  10,  1948,  p. 

52. 
Art.  The  Nation,  v.  166,  Mar.  20.  1948.  p. 

331-332. 

-Art.  The  Nation,  v.  167,  Dec.  11,  1948.  p. 

076. 

—  Art  Chronicle.  Partisan  Review,  v.  15,  Mar. 
1948,  p.  369.  2  il. 

Art  Chronicle.  Partisan  Review,  v.  17,  May- 
June,  1950.  p.  512,  513. 

Hess,  Thomas  B.:  Reviews  &  Previews.  Art 
News,  v.  49,  Apr.  1950,  p.  45.  1  il. 

Johnson,  Malcolm;  Cafe  Life  in  New  York. 
[Gorkv  murals  at  Ben  Marden's  Riviera.] 
New  York  Sun.  Aug.  22.  1941,  p.  15. 

Kees.  Weldon:  Art.  The  Nation.  v.  170,  Apr.  8, 
1950,  p.  334. 

Kiesler,  Frederick  J.:  Murals  without  Walls: 
Relating;  to  Gorky's  Newark  Project.  Art 
Frcvt.  v.  2.  Dec.  1936,  p.  10-11.  2  il. 

Lane,  James  W. :  Current  Exhibitions.  Parnas- 
sus, v.  8,  Mar.  1936,  p.  27. 

Lansford,  Alonzo:  Concentrated  Doodles.  Art 
Digest,  v.  21,  Mar.  1,  1947,  p.  18. 

Louchheim,  Aline:  Contemporary  Art  in  New 
York.  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  v.  186,  Dec. 
1950.  p.  65-66. 


49 


New    York    Exhibitions.    MKR's   Art    Outlook, 

no.  11,  June  1946,  p.  7. 
[Obituary]  Arshile  Gorkv  Dies.  Art  Digest,  v. 

22,  Aug.  1,  1948,  p.  27. 
[Obituary]    Arshile   Gorkv.    Art   News,   v.    47, 

Sept.  1948,  p.  56. 
Our  Editorial.  Color  and  Bhyme,  v.  19,  1949, 

p.  1. 
The  Passing  Shows.  Art  News,  v.  44,  Mar.  15, 

1945,  p.  24. 

Reed,  Judith   Kaye:    Salvaged  from   Fire.   Art 

Digest,  v.  20,  May  1,  1946,  p.  13. 
Reviews  &   Previews.   Art  News,   v.   45,   Apr. 

1946,  p.  54. 


Reviews  &   Previews.   Art   News,   v.   46.    Mar. 

1947,  p.  43. 

Reviews  &  Previews.  Arshile  Gorkv.  Art  News, 
v.  47,  Mar.  1948,  p.  46. 

Reviews  &   Previews.   Art   News,   v.   47,    Dec. 

1948,  p.  53-54.  1  il. 

Riley,  Maude:  The  Eye-Spring:  Arshile  Gorky. 
Art  Digest,  v.  19,  Mar.  15,  1945,  p.  10. 

Sweeney,     James     Johnson:      Five     American 
Painters.  Harper  s  Bazaar,  v.  78,  April  1944, 

p.  122,  124.  1  il. 

—  L'art  contemporain  aux  Etats-Unis.  Cahiers 
dArt,  Paris,  v.  13.  no.  1-2,  1938,  p.  51.  1  il. 


50 


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